


Flowers in Meadows

by foxy_mulder



Series: Ever Abating [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Literally this is just tender and Thats It, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Tenderness, Trans Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23297761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxy_mulder/pseuds/foxy_mulder
Summary: He won't have sex with Geralt in the middle of the woods.Geralt deserves nice things like sheets and a lack of pine cones against his back, he will not sacrifice his hard work toward Geralts improved self esteem just so he can have him immediately. It's not gentlemanly whatsoever.Even if he can practically see Geralts entire collarbone and the hair of his chest.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Ever Abating [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675486
Comments: 33
Kudos: 838
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	Flowers in Meadows

Geralt is buff as hell, which is actually pretty unfair, because who in the world needs _that volume_ of ass? At a certain point, it needs to be taken away and redistributed to those less fortunate, Jaskier thinks as he glares at his own traitorous, bony backside, before fixing his gaze back on Geralt.

The man is built like an extremely climbable brick wall. He’s valiantly tussling with a beast a few meters away, while Jaskier lounges and gives moral support. This gives Jaskier a beautiful view of his torn shirt, exposing the meat of his chest and the ripple of his biceps. Jaskier stares transfixed at his gleaming abdomen with...what is it? Jealousy? Right, jealousy. That’s why his palms feel so clammy. 

Also, he wants to get on his knees and pleasure him. But that’s neither here nor there.

Geralt catches his eye as he breaks the beasts neck with a single, graceful twist of his hands, his _really very large_ hands, with prominent veins and scars and he knows firsthand how calloused they are and _Jaskier is struggling to breathe_. 

He wont have sex with Geralt in the middle of the woods. He wont do it.

Geralt deserves nice things like sheets and a lack of pine cones against his back, he will not sacrifice his hard work toward Geralts improved self esteem just so he can have him immediately. It's not gentlemanly whatsoever. They have a room in town, he can wait.

...Even if he can practically see Geralts entire collarbone and the hair of his chest. Not even then. He has the patience and strength of a god, he will resist. 

“You’re pale. Are you alright?” Geralt asks as he approaches with the beasts head and moves to brush Jaskiers hair from his forehead, leaving a smear of blood behind. Hes really a sight to behold up close. He smells like sweat and blood, and hes absolutely _filthy._

Jaskiers eyes flick to his chest, where his shirt still hangs off him in tatters.

"That ones done for, huh?" He reaches out to tug at the thin fabric. "You can borrow my nightshirt until we get back to town," he says, tearing the rest of the shirt off to reveal Geralts glorious upper body.

"It's warm out. I can go without a shirt"

 _But can I?_ "Oops, I already got it out for you."

When he puts on a shirt everything will be better, he thinks. Surely.

The only issue is, it's Jaskiers shirt, and somehow the intimacy of Geralt in his clothes is infinitely worse and he truly didnt think this through, because Geralt is filthy with blood and sweat _in his shirt_ and it's on him and it's getting sweat-damp, clinging to the swell of his ass and the hard lines of his muscles. 

Focus on something else. Right. The area they're in is actually beautiful, trees a lovely pre-fall kind of color, leaves beginning to yellow like Geralts really beautiful eyes and-

 _Focus!_ They're approaching a clearing, a nice clearing with… with soft looking grass, and flowers, and he could see the two of them lying there together. He wonders if Geralt has pollen allergies. 

"Did you finally decide to shut up?" Geralt nudges him lightheartedly. 

_And deprive the world of its wittiest angel?_ He should say. But his mind has wandered far away from the conversation, over the hills, through the rivers and between Geralts thighs, and his tongue betrays him.

"Sit on my face," he chokes. "Wait, I mean-"

Geralt is already dragging him from the road and into the clearing. "Thought you'd never ask." He falls on his ass, and oh, the grass really is soft. Good. Geralt has removed his boots and socks, and Jaskier scrambles to slow him down.

"Wait, Geralt, it's not appropriate."

He raises a brow, undoing his pants. "Is it... meant to be appropriate?"

He gesticulates wildly, trying to get across the seriousness of this matter. "I mean! It's not romantic or anything to do it here! I dont want you to feel like I'm just a… a scoundrel having my way with you in the woods!" He squeaks. 

Geralts lips twitch fondly.

"Will you have me again at the inn?"

"Of course." He fails to see how this relates.

"And you- still love me?"

"Always," he breathes.

"Then anywhere is fine." Geralt places a sloppy kiss on Jaskiers ear and takes the shell between his teeth gently to tug at it, sending a wave of heat to Jaskiers groin. "Besides, maybe _I'll_ be having my way with _you_."

He gulps and feels a glowing pride that Geralt is able to take control like this comfortably. He feels at home with Jaskier, enough to take what he wants without expecting a rebuke, and that's all Jaskier could have hoped for since their first time together.

"Oh, you're a delight. A darling. An angel." He imagines Geralt as the sexy avenging sort of angel that wears armor and strikes down evil and likes being eaten out. And smells like onions. 

Geralt strips off his trousers down to his smallclothes. Jaskier makes to remove the shirt, but Geralt stops him with a hand.

"It smells good."

He cant argue with that. It will smell even better after this, like Geralt and dirt and probably come. He can't wait. 

He straddles Jaskiers lap and Jaskier whines, rolling his hips against the now painfully tight fabric of his pants. Geralt shifts and he can already feel how wet he is through the fabric,, a damp spot staining his smallclothes and seeping all the way through Jaskiers trousers.

He makes languid movements, rubbing his clit against Jaskiers hardening cock. He leans down to bracket Jaskiers head with his arms and kiss him, filthy and deep. Geralt is still an inexperienced kisser, but the messiness, the way its _Geralt,_ makes it all the better. And they have all the time in the world to practice. He smiles into Geralts mouth at the thought. He gets to _keep_ this. Geralt bites down on his lip just a bit too hard, and Jaskier whines as it swells, tender and sore.

Geralt pulls back, and Jaskier chases his lips. He sits back on his knees and glances at Jaskiers mouth then down at his lap. Jaskier nods, shimmying to rest between his legs beneath the growing stain on his smallclothes. 

He breathes it in, the musky smell of arousal and sweat. Geralt really can be attractive anywhere, doing anything, he thinks. In an inn, in a field, covered in guts or in the middle of fighting beasts.

He places his hands on Geralts thighs and he spreads them wide so his absolute furnace of a cunt smushes indelicately on Jaskiers face. The rough fabric chafes uncomfortably on his mouth, and hes certain his face will be red and raw after this.

He hopes the texture doesnt irritate Geralt as he goes about his day. Perhaps he should buy him some softer ones, satin or silk like his own. But Geralt might think they werent functional enough, and make fun of Jaskier for being frilly. Which, fair. Hes frilly, so what?! Does he poke fun at Geralt for being such a feral hermit? Actually, yes, all the time. He cant remember what his point was. He will have to ask, regardless.

Geralt rubs against his face impatiently. He kisses him through the underclothes and brings his fingers up to slide against the slick middle, where the fabric is soaked through fully, clinging to skin and hugging the mounds of him. The digits glide easily in soft circles. He places teasing, light kisses on his clit, and kitten licks to the opening.

He rucks the smallclothes down to Geralts knees and Geralts flower sits nestled there in all its silky glory, ready to be throughly loved.

Geralt holds himself open with two fingers and sits on Jaskiers tongue. Jaskier moans at the taste, jaw wide. His bitten, swollen lip aches sweetly as it glides around the edge to make a seal.

Geralts breathing is heavy, and he makes soft grunts as his thighs tremble.Jaskier watches him with a delicate awe.

Geralt reaches down to stroke his forehead, rough hand dragging over his soft skin deliciously and tugging at his hair. 

He loves it. Hes between two massive thighs, pinned down in the woods by the deadliest man alive, and hes never felt safer. How could he feel unsafe when Geralt is taking such pains not to tug too hard at his hair, and when hes making such sweet grunts, not holding the sounds back in the slightest? They're alone here, just the two of them, and Geralt can relax here, have what he wants, take freely. And of all things, he wants Jaskier.

Jaskier reaches down to open his trousers and touch himself, fucking into his hand to the rhythm of Geralts deep pleasured noises. He cant get enough. He hums his approval into Geralts cunt- Geralt loves when he does that, He shudders and begins to ride his tongue in earnest, wet squelches sounding as he presses demandingly into Jaskiers face, and Jaskier is surrounded on all sides by _heat._

Jaskier can't breathe, but he doesn't mind that particularly just now. He presses two fingers into Geralt to massage deep, sensitive places, while his tongue occupies itself under the hood of his clit.

Geralt clenches around him and his thighs tighten around Jaskiers head, locking him in place. He seals his swollen mouth to Geralts cunt and sweeps his tongue up to catch the hot gush of come, fingering him through it. 

Geralts thighs relax and release him from their hold, and he takes his place lying across him like a heavy blanket. 

His fingers run up Jaskiers sides and he giggles at the tickling sensation. Geralt pins him down, pressing his fingers harder into his ribs until hes squirming, tears of laughter running down his cheeks. He reaches frantically for Geralts sides to exact vengeance, skimming his stomach and ribs and Geralt is laughing too, a quiet sound that mingles with Jaskiers wheezing. Finally, he shows mercy, releases Jaskier and lies down beside him. He takes Jaskiers cock in hand to finish him off gently with a few soft pulls.

He wipes the come on the grass and snuggles back into Geralts chest. 

"You're odd," Geralt rumbles.

"Am I? I think I'm more of an everyman, a man of the people, not an oddball."

"You are odd. I've never laughed during sex before."

"You never laugh anyway, you big sullen oaf," he undermines the insult with a wet kiss to Geralts nose, which sets them both into fits of stupid laughter again. 

Finally, they settle down and lie still. The dappled light of the afternoon spreads over the meadow, illuminating the two of them where they lie, relaxed and half-clothed and tousled. Flowers frame Geralts face sweetly, the cut line of his jaw in stark contrast with their blossoms. Their flowery perfume nearly masks the smell of drying blood. Maybe this place is a bit romantic after all. He closes his eyes, ready to nap, maybe stay the night here, and then abruptly remembers they _paid for a room already_.

Jaskier sneezes and sits up, patting Geralt to rouse him from his doze.

"Want to do that again in the bathtub?"

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and hastily written but here's a pseudo sequel to "Aches" :-) this one takes place some time after the first.


End file.
